


Living For Love (With Help)

by Saltyfang



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Hot Mess Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Jason is a Dork, Protective Jason Todd, Protective Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Tim Drake Needs a Break
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29641014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saltyfang/pseuds/Saltyfang
Summary: Strangers to friends to lovers?Jason is being chased by the media, in need of someone to cover him and quick! Marinette is still sad that she missed movie night with her friends (again) and is slightly confused as to why a stranger keeps asking her if she missed him.It wouldn't be the first time and it certainly won't be the last.
Relationships: Luka Couffaine & Damian Wayne, Luka Couffaine & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Damian Wayne, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Jason Todd, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Comments: 5
Kudos: 80





	Living For Love (With Help)

Jason Todd was in trouble with the media again but then again, when was he not? He just wished that they’d stop chasing him through Gotham for such insidious gossip. Ah well, it wasn’t like any of these reporters or the paparazzi held any credibility. They were airheaded gossip merchants. Even more so than him and that a talent he prided himself in having. One that even informed him that they’d be after him. He was perfect at eavesdropping which had sort of led him to his problem right now.

‘ _I swear, Demon Spawn when I get my hands on you, I’m going to throttle you.’_ He thought, growling deeply.

He had been forced to accompany Damian on something as trivial as grocery shopping for fighting again during dinner. It wasn’t his fault that the gremlin put his grubby hands on food specifically labelled with ‘property of Jason Todd’.

But apparently, since the Demon was ignorant and spiteful enough to ignore the label, that was somehow his fault. The worst part was that it was the only good food still left in the house because Alfred had gone to do damage control for some secret mission. So, they’d been forced to suffer on ready-made meals and Bruce’s mediocre cooking, something he didn’t really want to deal with for the next two weeks. That was why he stashed away food before Alfred’s departure.

He was fairly confident that no one had seen him, and he had labelled them with his name or hid them in vegetable wrapping. It was foolish, really, because his family actually ate vegetables willingly and had a sharper sense of smell than sniffer dogs. It was no surprise when, the next morning, he woke up to see half of his stash gone. It was pretty easy to figure out who had eaten it by the faltering of his poker face, with traces of guilt etched into his wrinkles on his forehead. Even _Bruce_ didn’t like his own food.

Maybe that was why the old man had it out for him. He had forced him to reimburse every last piece of food he had stolen, adding interest on top for each day Bruce took. It took him three days which meant way more extra food. And the best part was that it was **free**! 

Since his food had been stolen so easily last time, even though it had been clearly labelled with his whole goddamn name, he hid his food in harder to reach places. Or in other words, the top shelf of the cupboard.

A place where only two other people in the family could reach without a stool. Dick and Bruce. The former was too nice to take his junk without asking and the latter had been scarred by how quickly his wallet had been emptied out. That was another problem in itself. With Alfred gone, there had been a temporary freeze on their bank accounts to ensure that the manor was still standing by the time he returned. If they were going to do stupid shit, they’d have to do it with their own money from their own wallets. Most of the Wayne’s did not even own wallets or their wallets were collecting dust. Which meant they were flat broke. This in itself was reassuring because Bruce wouldn’t dare risk stealing from him again. Served the old man right.

Damian would though. Unluckily for him, he was too short to reach anything, and he had sliced off the legs of the stool. So, he was pretty much safe in that regard and he didn’t have anything coffee flavoured, so it was fine for Tim to avoid his stash.

Damian was sat in the kitchen, katana at the ready, slowly eating his food. Food that was meant for Jason. Eating good food. Eating good food that was meant for only Jason. The Demon was eating his goddamn food with a smug smirk on his face. Okay… Jason breathed slowly, making his decision. Fuck civil, this punk was going down.

“Demon spawn, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? That’s my food.”

“ _Ah ah ah,_ Todd. One of the fundamental things you were taught is that sharing is caring. Alfred specifically taught us that. Are you going to ignore that?” 

“You little shit. I’ve already shared the manor with you. That’s more than enough. Now give me back my lunch.”

“We’re doing a trade,” he said, authoritatively. “You can have my carrot soup and I’ll have this heavenly sandwich. It’s already been decided so don’t try to fight it.” Damian shoved the rest of the sandwich into his mouth, before tossing the empty expensive protein shake bottle at Jason’s feet. “Pick that up, littering isn’t good. And make sure you recycle, Todd. Now, I’d appreciate it if you did not disturb me.” He climbed down, landing on all fours. He somehow managed to gracefully scramble to his feet and balance his katana on his shoulders. 

“Where do you think you’re going? You owe me a lunch, and quick. It better not be Bruce’s surprise carrot soup, you shit.”

“If you have nothing of value to say to me, I will make my departure. If you do, make it snappy. I have a recital that I need to prepare for.” He said, opening the fridge and retrieving the cold, revolting bowl of soup.

Immediately, the smell of carrots and broccoli battered his nose and as he peered into the bowl, he could see the mushy consistency of the vegetables blending in with the runny soup.

“I’d tell you to enjoy your meal, but we all know you’re more likely to get food poisoning from that. And if we’re being honest, I was petulant enough to eat your triple chocolate cookies even though I don’t really like sweets or anything sweet for that matter. And holy hell was that _nice_!” Was it him or was Damian acting brattier than usual? Maybe, he needed someone to teach him a lesson.

Jason could feel his eye twitch as he wringed his hands together. “Told you, I didn’t like carrot soup,” Uncharacteristically, his voice was gravelly, and he spoke in low tones.

“Todd, if you’re going to say something, at least say it loud eno-”

“I thought I told you I don’t like carrot soup! That was my food, you pampered brat.” He said, catching Damian off guard and landing a clean gut shot. Damian blinked, unsheathing his katanas with ease, before calmly walking over to Jason. Damian had been prepared to attack, but hesitated. Because at that moment, Jason’s eyes were glowing a sickening shade. A familiar Lazarus green. Damian could easily pinpoint the instant when his bloodlust resurfaced. That was the moment Damian knew he was fighting someone who was ready to kill him.

Ibn al Xu’ffasch may have been trained in the League of Assassins but even they could not compare to the monster in front of him. It was a rare sight to see an Al Ghul cower, but Damian could not deny he was scared. He was at a loss, seeing no way to victory.

His hesitance had left him open to Jason’s onslaught of attacks. You know what they say, when facing a wild bear, never run. Damian had made that exact mistake. **_He ran_**. In seconds, his defence had been compromised and his katanas had been launched across the room, stabbing whatever item had been carelessly left out. He swivelled his head to avoid being hit by the brute force of the butt of Jason’s gun. That only seemed to irk Jason more as he resorted to use a combination of his fists and the gun.

“Both of you, stop.” Yelled Bruce, pulling them apart. Damian apparently took after Selina’s catty traits because he refused to stop clawing at Jason’s face with his bare hands. And his nails were overgrown, uncharacteristic of the little gremlin.

“Both of you should be ashamed!” There was no other way to describe Dick’s tone. He was a purely disappointed. Gone was the playful, upbeat singsong, replaced by something so cold. “Alfred had one request. ‘Make sure the manor is still standing by the time I return.’ You really want to ruin it for him? After all he’s done for us without complaint?” Alfred’s absence was really taking a toll on everyone in the family. Dick had grown out a mullet and had even come out to dinner wearing his _Discowing outfit_. Everything about that outfit was a crime to humanity, too tight in the _wrong_ places, incredibly flashy and shudder-inducing. It had been the day Jason started eating with his sleeping mask on.

“No,” they grumbled, shooting each other glares. 

“Now, both of you are going to go grocery shopping. And you are going to get along!” Bruce’s voice left no room for arguments but when did Jason ever listen to him? And it just sounded like he wanted them to do his chores for him.

~~They were actually their chores. They were allocated certain days for each thing. Jason just chose to forget.~~

“He can’t be serious? There’s no way I’m going anywhere with him.”

“Did he stutter, Jay? You’re going, even if I have to drag you both there. Unless you want to pay that hefty fine you owe to the swear jar?” Now that Alfred was gone, Jason took the liberty to swear excessively. In turn, he had racked up an expensive bill. One which he currently didn’t have the money to pay for.

“Fine, I’ll go. But I’m not cooking or cleaning anything.” He huffed, reaching for his leather jacket. “We leave in half an hour. Be ready or I’m leaving you. Better yet, don’t get ready. I’ll just go with Roy.”

“No! You will go with Damian. It’s a bonding experience.” Dick said, throwing his arms around his little brothers. His vice-lock grip was impossible to break free from and it was a painful twenty seconds of affection and face smushing.

“Jeez, we’re not _two_.” Damian pursed his lips petulantly, finally speaking. He was wondering when the little imp would pipe up.

“You wouldn’t need to ‘bond’ if you could talk without using your fists. Now go and change before I set Tim on you.”

‘ _A rabid, sleep-deprived, coffee-limited Tim? No fucking thanks?’_ he thought, running up the stairs two at a time.

Marinette trudged up the stairs begrudgingly, holding her nose in an attempt to mask the suspicious smell of piss. It was at times like this when she wished she wasn’t so broke or stingy. It was also when she wished the building actually had a functioning elevator, not one that had a paper sign labelled ‘ _Up, Up and Away!’_. Also, seriously? Twenty-four flights of stairs for one apartment? That was absurd.

Owning a little, beat up, dilapidated building in the middle of nowhere certainly had its perks. For one, it meant that Marinette didn’t have to constantly deal with bratty customers who expected their commission to be done instantly. Expecting her to neglect her other responsibilities. _Because she was definitely some extraordinary fairy godmother, not a human with a personal life_. That’s why she disliked the media attention she got from being Jagged's- sorry- her Uncle’s temporary designer.

That was actually why she had bought her own boutique-if you could call it that. It gave her the thrill of maintaining a guise of anonymity and gave her enough alone time. Too much alone time, which she hadn’t wanted to use to dwell in her thoughts. Instead, she was crafting a pros and cons list to see if her risky decision had paid off. Yes, she was a weirdo, nothing new to see here.

So far, the positives outweighed the negatives. The only negative really was that so many people with poor fashion sense had popped in to shop and it had been hard to hold her tongue. And, her shop had been broken into more than once but last time, an exhausted Marinette had nearly bitten the perpetrator’s head off. Plus, her eye mask and the cruel smile on her face was creepy enough to give them nightmares.

It wasn’t so much so that her demeanour was scary – she hated to admit it but her 5’1 stature wasn’t making anyone quake in their boots. The malice she radiated, however, had made plenty of people cower. And rightfully so, because she looked possessed each time and her eyes took on a gossamer glow. Even her hair seemed to waft in the air waiting to pounce and subdue the intruder. Her guard dog, a pure little Pomeranian that went crazy when he saw anything that he deemed a threat, had chased the man out of her shop, latching onto his leg with his fangs. Despite the frequent attempts to dislodge the puppy from his leg, he couldn’t, eventually running back in the store to beg Marinette for help.

After the last incident which ended in the thief screaming so loudly that the police had issued a warning to her, the attacks stopped. So, she couldn’t really call it a disadvantage. In fact, the only other disadvantage was that she didn’t earn enough from commissions- her rate was dirt cheap- and most customers would not listen to her decisions.

Whether she couldn’t squeeze them in because her schedule was overbooked or if the fabric they demanded was out of stock, permanently she might add, they would throw bratty tantrums. Obviously, then they’d demand a reduction in their items price. If she refused, they threaten to leave bad reviews which she honestly didn’t give a fuck about because honestly, good riddance if they couldn’t appreciate her efforts. At that point, they’d huff, finally letting her do her job. 

For each bitchy customer, she embroidered a personal ‘ _fuck you’_. Unless they had a good eye for detail, they’d skim right over it. It was always fun to do, a sort of catharsis. 

One customer had demanded to have a puke green suit crafted by the end of the week. She swore, she died a little inside. Granted, they were paying her extra, but she had to miss out on ‘a movie marathon’ with her best friends. Again. She couldn’t even wear her signature pink shirt whilst they watched Mean Girls for the umpteenth time. Instead, she was out in the cold rain, getting weird looks from the store clerks for even considering that shade of green.

“It’s not for me!” She didn’t know why she felt the need to explain that to the workers but the cold reception she received made her wish she had just kept her mouth shut. She, at one point, noticed a woman roll her eyes at her and decided to take her leave. She could always go tomorrow morning, when the less bitchy employees were working.

Wrapping her shawl around her neck, she meandered through the gathering crowds. Their incessant chatter made her slip in her earphones, attempting to drown them out. She had been too preoccupied with trying to reschedule her day. She pulled her fingerless gloves over her cold hands, slyly slipping a cookie into her purse for Tikki.

She heard Tikki squeal in excitement, flitting around her hand to express her gratitude. Only then did she actually acknowledge her surroundings, seeing the familiar clothing of the paparazzi. She could smell the scent of desperation waft through the air as they tried to find the best angles to capture. It wasn’t a place she particularly fancied to be. So, instead, she trailed towards the nearest bus stop, about five minutes away.

“Poor sap,” she whispered, feeling pity towards the person that was being hounded by them. “Brings me back to the old days.” Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette noticed a shady figure running towards her. But for one, she had no idea who he was. Two, she was in a foul mood and honestly couldn’t give two fucks. Three, Gotham was notorious for being filled with crime. She sure as hell was not going to get robbed. Discreetly, she turned down the volume of her music, easing herself into a fighting stance.

Running on two hours of sleep in the last two days had made her sway slightly when she walked, making her stance less intimidating and more relaxed. Oh well. She was slightly wary of the lack of space, which meant her movements were restricted but it wasn’t anything new.

“Miss me?” Said the strange person who thought it was polite to accost a random stranger in the middle of the night. He probably had her confused for someone else.

‘ _Smile and nod. Just smile and nod._ ’ She thought, repeating it over and over in her head.

She hadn’t expected him to give her a toothy grin or lean in to kiss her. She had pushed his face away from hers, cautiously stepping backwards.

Even if he was objectively hot, that did _not_ give him the liberty to kiss her. What did he expect? Her knees to buckle at his dorky expression? Or her to abandon her logic and kiss him?

“Excuse me, what the _fuck_ do you think you are doing?” She said, nostrils flared, and teeth bared. She had been tempted toss in a couple more expletives when she saw the confused expression on his face. Had she misinterpreted his intentions? Perhaps he was being polite in his own weird way? Had it been that long since anyone showed her affection? And it was common to greet people with two kisses to the cheeks. She knew that!

Carefully, she removed her tattered earphones, placing them in her bag. “I’m sorry, but could you repeat that?”

“Kiss me, please?” She heard the begging in his voice but that just confused her even more.

‘ _HUHHHHHHHHHH? What the actual heck? Why would he want to kiss me? Is he stupid? And why is he so damn tall? Wait, no. Bad Marinette, don’t judge him because of his height.’_ Maybe a little more internal screaming would do it? ‘ _AHHHHHHHHH_!’

Still not enough. Slowly, she rolled up her shirt sleeve, balling her hand into a fist. Taking a deep breath, she swung, hitting him square in the nose. She saw how dizzy he looked before he fell to the cold pavement. That was it. That was what she needed.

She turned to walk away, spinning on her heel when she heard him whimper. Damn her conscience, she was more worried about whether this idiot had a nosebleed than getting home and eating the pizza she ordered.

“As much as it pains me to say this, are you okay? Do I need to stem the bleeding?” She asked, peering into her purse. She had a band aid in here somewhere. “Just, give me a minute.” She was talking to herself at this point, he wasn’t even responding. How awkward.

And then, he laughed, picking his face off of the ground. His nose was a little red and his pride was probably a little bruised. 

“I deserved that.” He did, he deserved that and more. But at least he had the decency to accept it. “Sorry, I try not to do that. Like at all. Sorry, if I made you uncomfortable.”

“If I said it was fine, I’d be lying. But, why’d you do it?”

“Uh, I may have read it in a fanfic? Asking someone to kiss you under their umbrella to hide is usually a good conversation starter.”

“Okay… _well you sound just as bad as me_. It’s a long story, don’t ask. But why didn’t you leave after I punched you in the face? Not that you’re disturbing me. I’m actually quite concerned for you.”

“Well, for one, I’m recovering from the shock of that punch. You’ve got one hell of a right hook. You’re lucky that I was the one at fault here and that I like you. If you were anyone else, I can bet you 100 dollars that I would have just shot you.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, small fry.”

“I’m not-”

“Small, _yes yes I know,_ but I want to finish my list. My other reason for staying was because the moment you decked me in the face, I fell in love.” He flashed her a genuine smile, making her skin erupt with goose bumps. Maybe it seemed like she was still present but mentally his words bounced around in her head. 

And then, she _**bluescreened**_. He had _broken_ her.

“Woah, do you need to sit down? Lady,” He asked, waving his hand in her face. “You still there?” Gently, he directed her towards the bus stop bench, something she was grateful for. She wasn’t sure how much longer her knees would hold out.

“I, uh, _GAHHHHH! You like anizools? I mean zoonimoos._ They are cute. Like you.” Jason blanched, confused by the shift in the woman’s behaviour. Was she drunk? Was the liquor going to her head? 

‘ _I’m so fucking screwed.’_ Thought Marinette, crying internally. No amount of bullshitting would get her through this.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have a vague idea of where this is going but I also don't? Oh and this is thanks to my English teacher who let me write a fanfic for a project! This isn't the one she's seeing, thank goodness, but it was inspired by said project.  
> Also, big thanks to IceRoseCrystal for everything and being such a big help in general. <3


End file.
